


Tentacles

by Fangirlishness



Category: The Librarians (TV 2014)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, No Tentacle Sex, Tentacle Monsters, Trope Subversion/Inversion, and there is sex, but not in the same scene, i'll say it again, there are tentacles, there is NO tentacle sex in this story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-15
Updated: 2015-11-15
Packaged: 2018-05-01 18:03:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5215421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fangirlishness/pseuds/Fangirlishness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>When the noose closed around his left ankle mid-step, Flynn crashed headlong to the floor, his flashlight flying out of his hand in a high arc. </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tentacles

**Author's Note:**

> Just in case you skipped the tags, I'll say it again: there is no tentacle sex in this story. There are tentacles, and there is sex, but not in the same scene.
> 
> Thanks to [Neery](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Neery) and [Greyathena](http://archiveofourown.org/users/greyathena), my wonderful betas.
> 
> p.s.: I started this fic way back in July before the season 2 trailers with tentacles showed up.

When the noose closed around his left ankle mid-step, Flynn crashed headlong to the floor, his flashlight flying out of his hand in a high arc. Disorienting flashes reflected off the raw rock of the tunnel walls and ceiling. He let out a shocked shriek that turned into a cry of pain as he was pulled backwards and his knees scraped over the packed earth. He kicked his free foot and dug in his fingers, trying to find purchase on the floor, but the pull of the rope on his ankle was too strong. 

Suddenly, there was another rope on his other foot, and… that was a strange trap. When the third one wrapped around his throat, slick and cool, he realized they weren’t ropes at all but tentacles. 

Eww. 

He didn’t have much time to reevaluate the situation, he was still being dragged across the ground, but his first thought had been to cut himself free. That still applied, so he tried to flip himself onto his back to reach for the knife in his bag. He rifled through the contents by feel, his movements becoming more frantic as the pressure on his throat increased painfully. It was getting really hard to breathe. His left hand groped at the tentacle around his throat uselessly. The thing was cool and slimy, at least an inch in diameter, hard with muscle and sucked to his skin, impossible to dislodge. 

His convulsive attempts to free himself seemed to slow down the speed at which he was being pulled along, but now the tentacles around his legs were wrapping around each other and twisting his legs together tightly. There seemed to be a fourth tentacle swishing around somewhere, but he couldn’t be sure if he wasn’t just imagining the moving shadows in the dim light of the tunnel. 

Finally, his fingers closed around his knife. He grabbed for the part of the tentacle that led to his throat, stretching it taut so he could saw through it without cutting his own throat. It felt stringy but came apart easily enough. A shock went through the creature and tepid liquid sprayed his face. 

More eww. 

The cut-off tentacle part was no longer forcefully constricting him, but it was still firmly suckered all around his throat. He grabbed the twitching end and, with force, unwound it from around his neck. The suckers came loose with painful pops that brought tears to his eyes, but he was finally able to take a deep breath again. 

The tentacles around his ankles had spasmed when he’d cut off their fellow limb, but hadn’t relinquished their hold on him or stopped pulling him along. Unfortunately, he hadn’t imagined the fourth tentacle earlier, and it found his knife hand before he could bend down to free his legs. It wrapped his wrist in a strong grip, avoiding the blade, and pulled on his arm painfully. He yanked against it, trying to cut it, but its pressure leeched all the strength from his fingers, making the knife useless. 

His other hand was only free for a few more seconds before it, too, was gripped and wrapped close to his body, at which point Flynn started panicking. He wasn’t going to get out of this one alive. “Eeeeeeeve! Help!” He hoped his voice was still strong enough to be heard. It felt like it was all rasp and no sound. “Eeeeeeeve!”

All limbs bound, he was dragged inexorably closer to what must be the mouth of a giant octopus.

~~~

Eve started sprinting back the way she’d come as soon as she heard Flynn shout her name. It was definitely not a “look what I found” shout, or the ever-favorite “why aren’t you here yet” shout. Flynn was in danger, and it sounded like he’d gotten a lot farther away than she’d estimated. She took the corner as fast as she dared, ducking her head under the sharp rocks in the low ceiling of the natural tunnel she knew Flynn had gone down.

She heard scuffling noises and Flynn’s wheezing moan before her light reached him, and she gave a last burst of speed. She skidded to a halt in front of a prone Flynn, who was flopping on the ground like a fish out of water, wrapped into a knot by something white and pink and writhing that looked like the tentacles of a man-sized octopus. The arms seemed to emerge from a hole in the wall, slowly drawing Flynn in. 

She placed four shots right at their center before it could drag Flynn too close and she would lose her line of fire. The tentacles trembled and quickly recoiled from Flynn, retreating towards the hole in the wall. All except for one, which she’d apparently severed with her shot. Its tip remained on the floor, still attached to Flynn’s ankle. Flynn’s wheezing inhalation made her cringe, but she didn’t dare approach him yet. “Flynn? Can you get up?”

He coughed, and if he tried to say anything, she didn’t understand; it was just a constricted groan. He was struggling to get up, though. He pushed himself to his knees, which was when he realized he still had a cut-off tentacle around his left foot. He spun around and ripped it off with a series of slick sounds. Then he collapsed in on himself, gasping pitifully. That had to hurt, and her discipline just barely won out over her instincts that were screaming to come to his aid. 

“Get behind me, I’ll cover you,” Eve tried to hurry him. She stayed rooted to the spot with some effort, locking her knees. He really needed to get away from the creature in that hole. Flynn more crawled than walked towards her, his knees giving way when he tried to stand. She reached out with her left and dragged him up on impulse. Her flashlight was digging into his ribs and she cursed herself that he was now blocking her view. 

She pulled him backwards with her and tried to align her flashlight with the hiding place of the tentacle-thing. She needed to make sure it didn’t mount a second attack, but she could barely concentrate with the way Flynn was wheezing into her ear. He was shaking like a leaf and clinging to her, letting her drag him along. She never should have let him separate from her. When did she ever learn? These things always happened when she wasn’t around to keep him away from danger.

She turned her head away earlier than was safe, but she needed to see where they were going. Flynn was still wrapped around her tightly, and she holstered her gun and hoisted him up so he wouldn’t hang on her neck with all his weight. He didn’t give her a lot of room, but she managed to turn in his trembling embrace, snaking her arm around his back. Aiming the flashlight in front of them, she pulled him close so he could walk with her. His arm stayed put firmly around her neck, which was making it more difficult to walk, but Eve just let him hold onto her and kept moving. She could feel his frantic heartbeat even through her jacket, and he still seemed to have difficulty breathing. Getting him to safety was her first priority.

~~~

By the time they reached the Annex, Flynn’s legs had stopped shaking, but he was still clinging to her, his head leaning on her shoulder and both arms wrapped around her. His voice still sounded a little scratchy, okay, a lot scratchy, but that didn’t keep him from talking. It must be painful, but she suspected he was still in shock, judging from the way he had been talking non-stop for the last five minutes and repeating some of the worst parts without noticing.

She’d tried to make him stop, but it never worked for more than a breath or two before he started rambling again. So she let him talk. 

She had to pull him closer to her at several points during his detailed retelling of the attack. She wasn’t all that squeamish, but the way he was talking pretty much unfiltered, almost as if it was still happening, affected her more than she would have liked. The echo of fear was coiling into a hard lump in her gut. She had never seen him this rattled. 

And she now knew a lot of things she’d never wanted to know about octopuses.

The only thing she really wanted to know, namely what kind of creature it had been exactly, he couldn’t tell her. He hadn’t heard of anything like it guarding the Trident. The map hadn’t mentioned it. The wards and runes hadn’t held a clue to it, either. Flynn was confused, or, as he put it, perplexed. And annoyed that he hadn’t had the presence of mind to take the severed tentacle with him. 

Eve was just glad that she’d gotten him out of there alive, and that he gradually got more coherent again, but of course he didn’t see it that way. Luckily, he didn’t push his idea of going back for it. In fact, he gave up surprisingly fast when she reassured him that it would keep fresh in that tunnel until tomorrow. 

She steered him towards the first-aid room. It had existed before her time at the Library, but it had been no more than a room with a cot in it. She had brought it up to current standards in terms of essential medical equipment. Together, they’d gone over the artifacts that were useful for healing and had started storing them there for easy access. She’d wondered why Flynn, being a Librarian and thus strongly inclined to sort and label things, hadn’t thought of that. Especially considering how often he ended up with an injury. How he had survived without her for ten years (and still had any of the Oil of Bathsheba left) was a mystery to her.

Flynn sat down hard on the cot, and while Eve really wanted to go get disinfectant, she gave in when he clung to her and tugged her closer. His arms snaked around her neck and he leaned against her. So she stayed with him, ignoring the slimy stains he got on her shirt front, reluctant to unwrap herself from his embrace. 

She let him hold on to her as she stood between his knees, threading her hand through his matted hair. The rest could wait for a while. 

It seemed to be calming him, his monologue fading to a murmur. Within a minute, he had stopped talking altogether. Now he just sighed from time to time. She couldn’t deny that it had a soothing effect on her, too.

When she felt his fingers tremble against her neck, she decided it was time to treat his wounds. She kissed the top of his head and ducked out of his hug, almost a little disappointed that he immediately dropped his hands and let her step across the room. When she turned back to him, armed with disinfectant, he was still sitting as she’d left him, staring straight ahead. 

“Flynn? Are you still awake?”

“Hmm, yes. I’m fine.” His rough voice belied his words, but he did look at her alertly enough when she addressed him. “I’m just thinking about how that octopus got into that tunnel. Maybe it has nothing to do with the Trident at all...”

Okay, that was normal Flynn behavior. “You didn’t hit your head, did you?” 

She took the flashlight from her pocket again and bent to look into his eyes. They reacted well, thankfully. She put the flashlight away and, with both hands free, checked his head for lumps. She hadn’t felt any earlier, but she wanted to make sure. 

“I’m okay,” he ventured, “I am. Right?”

“Yes, no lumps, and your pupils look okay,” she reassured him. “But your throat looks—” She grimaced and looked him over. 

The green-blue substance that dotted his suit and was smeared over his face and throat looked garish in the bright light of the first-aid room. She shuddered. At least it was easily distinguishable from human blood, of which there didn’t seem to be any. 

The perfectly circular marks on Flynn’s throat were standing out in dark red by now. She would need something to soothe them, and maybe some spray dressing. The sucker marks weren’t open wounds, but he had abrasions on his hands. She’d need to check his knees, too. Which reminded her that he’d have to undress. 

“Flynn, should we do this at home rather than in here? I’ll have to treat your wounds, and a bed sounds more comfortable than this cot.”

She barely waited for his answering nod before starting towards the door. “I’ll go get my bag and then we can go,” she told him over her shoulder. 

When she came back, he was already sitting on the edge of the cot, waiting for her to get going. She didn’t waste any time checking the supplies again, just stacked everything quickly into her bag.

He took her offered hand and let her help him up. He was obviously able to walk on his own again, but he still wrapped his arm around her waist. She couldn’t complain; she didn’t want to be away from him, either. 

She led him back the way they’d come—his condition definitely warranted the use of the back door to their apartment.

She was glad they’d moved in together a month ago. The nagging feeling that she might be missing something, that she might lose him, had grown too strong to deny. She’d decided to trust her instincts and spend as much time as possible with him. She hadn’t put it in so many words, she’d simply asked him to move in with her. His face had lit up, and that had been it. Tonight, she felt more strongly than ever that it had been the right decision. 

In their bedroom, Flynn started taking off his clothes with careful movements. His arms were probably sore and she could imagine how every shift in position must hurt. She knew better than to offer her help, though. Unfortunately, this wasn’t the first time she’d had to treat his injuries. She knew he was more comfortable undressing on his own, so she just concentrated on preparing the things she’d need later, unobtrusively keeping an eye on him as he padded to the shower. He dragged his feet a little, but otherwise he seemed okay. Exhausted, but okay. She sighed, the tension in her gut shifting, but easing a little.

She drifted after him and busied herself in the bathroom until he was done. She handed him a towel as they swapped places, then hurried through her own shower.

She was still pulling down her t-shirt over her sweatpants on her way back into the bedroom when she saw Flynn looking up at her from his place on the edge of the bed. The combination of his slight smile and him just sitting there stark naked, waiting for her, sent a thrill through her. A completely inappropriate thrill, she reminded herself. He was injured. Red marks stood out on his throat and his lower arms, spread across his skin in straight, tapering rows. His wrists and ankles looked horribly bruised. There was indeed a small abrasion on his left knee, but she’d expected worse. 

She picked up the disinfectant she had prepared next to the bed and sprayed it on his scratches. The bigger ones on his palms got some spray dressing. She worked in silence, which was unusual for them. He was probably too exhausted, or maybe he was finally going easy on his voice. She definitely wasn’t about to force him to talk. 

She checked his back for more red circles and found a few near his neck, but not that many, and his back was otherwise clean. The creature probably hadn’t gotten under his shirt and jacket. She shuddered at the thought of tentacles trying to insinuate themselves into his clothing. She had to touch his neck, putting her palms over the marks, making them go away if only for a minute. Dammit, she hated to see him suffer. She felt him breathe in and out slowly, his skin warm under her hands, and it helped a little. 

She reminded herself that she shouldn’t be dawdling. When she squatted in front of him again, exchanging the spray bottle for a tube of aloe gel, he opened his eyes and smiled faintly at her. He looked so exhausted. She couldn’t help smiling back at him.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice cracking in his abused throat. His low tone in combination with his smile made her stomach flip, but the guilty lump below it quickly pulled it down again. 

“I’m not done yet. I think I should put some aloe on those…” she gestured vaguely at his body.

“Yeah, okay,” he answered. 

At least he liked her taking care of him. She squeezed some of the gel onto her fingers and lightly touched them to the biggest red circle below his Adam’s apple. A shudder went through him and he let out a sigh.

She snapped away her fingers, “Too much?”

He shook his head minutely. “Feels good,” he whispered. He kept his eyes closed while she spread a generous amount of gel around his throat, following the line of circles. 

Even though she knew they must hurt, and she really didn’t want to think too closely about how they got on Flynn’s throat, there was something aesthetic about them. Perfectly circular, evenly spaced, and steadily decreasing in size, they looked like artistic love bites. She felt an irrational pang of jealousy. Of a cephalopod. Bah. She wanted to erase them, rub them away. She had to rein in the urge so she wouldn’t put too much pressure on them and hurt Flynn.

She moved around Flynn, kneeling on the bed, and he dropped his head forward when she reached his neck. The red marks were very close to his hair there and she couldn’t avoid getting gel into it. Flynn was slowly moving in counterpoint to her hand, making the movement surprisingly sensual. Another spike of arousal shot through her and she spent a little more time sliding her fingers through the fine hairs on his neck than strictly necessary. 

When she crawled around him to his other side and could throw a glance on his front again, she was not surprised to find that he was half-hard. Still, no reason to get carried away. He was still in pain and he needed rest now, not—

She’d seen him turn, his hand moving towards her, but the kiss still took her completely by surprise. Flynn’s hand held the back of her head and his lips just pressed to hers, warm and dry, and it was over too quickly.

“Are you done now?” he asked, his breath ghosting across her lips, and his hand settling on her shoulder.

No, of course she wasn’t. She’d barely started. But—he was clean, at least. It took her a second to shift gears. “Hmm, I can be done, I guess.” 

He took that as an invitation to kiss her again, and this time it wasn’t over quickly. It was sweet and slow and warm.

She wanted to feel his skin under her fingers, but when she tried to touch him, she realized she was still holding the aloe gel a bit stupidly in one hand, and her other hand was sticky with it. That brought her up short. Her responsible side took advantage of her confusion and made a last-ditch effort to get heard, “We shouldn’t. You’re exhausted.”

Flynn smiled faintly. “I’m not that exhausted. Except maybe for my voice. But all I really care about now is that we’re together, and I want to be close to you.”

Eve laughed, the sound painful in her chest. She wanted to believe so much that he was really okay. But even if not, his honesty was so disarming, and all she wanted was to be close to him, too. 

She closed and dropped the gel and then, both hands free, laid them on Flynn’s cheeks and proceeded to kiss him deeply. He opened up and let her, holding on to her arms. 

She felt his fingers curl in her shirt sleeves a second before he rolled backwards onto the bed, pulling her down after him. She barely managed to catch herself so she didn’t land on top of him with her whole weight. He groaned and tensed under her anyway. 

She immediately pulled back, “I’m sorry, baby, I’m so sorry.”

He just caught her face in his hands, dragging her the rest of the way towards him, and shut her up with another kiss. She gave in to it, partly reassured, but silently vowing to be more careful with him tonight, even if he wasn’t.

She let her weight settle onto him slowly, but then realized that she was still dressed—and Flynn wasn’t. She stood up against the resistance of his embrace and quickly undressed.

“Don’t rush on my account,” he said, scooting back on the bed, wiggling seductively. The effect was somewhat lessened by the angry red of his wrists and ankles and the way he favored them.

“Oh no, I’m not risking you falling asleep.” The quip had left her mouth faster than she could think, and obscured the real reason she didn’t take her time. The only thing making the pain in her chest ease was being next to him, feeling that he was alive. 

He spread his arms in welcome as she crawled back onto the bed. She very carefully stretched out next to him, making sure not to bump his legs or lie on his arm. She pulled the sheet over both of them, and then wrapped her arm around him. This was what she’d been missing, his skin on her skin, his heart beating close to hers. Every part of her knew he was here with her. Safe, for now. She wanted to wrap the rest of herself around him, too, but she didn’t dare, so she settled for pulling her leg up and resting it cautiously across his thighs.

Flynn reached for her cheek, and with his fingertips lightly guided her face so he could kiss her again. She felt all tension melt out of his body as they kissed. She felt better too, holding him, her fingers splayed on the side of his chest. She rubbed her hand up and down, just feeling him close to her. 

The gel on her fingers dried and faded, and her touches turned more sensual as she could feel his skin properly again. She could easily tell the sensitive areas by their stickiness and she avoided touching them. His body was warm and solid under her touch, and she felt his dick twitch and fill out slowly against her thigh. Flynn’s hips shifted a little now and then, reacting to her hand roaming over the crook of his arm, his armpit, his nipple. He was hurt, yes, but he was here with her, enjoying her touch, sighing silently between kisses. With every breath, Eve’s tension slowly lessened.

Her hand was languidly moving in a circle across Flynn’s chest all by itself and she realized that her mind had started to drift. It occurred to her that she never had this much time during sex. There had been times that they’d had sex in the middle of the night, when they’d both been half asleep, and others during the day, when they’d both been wide awake. But he was always ahead of her, always challenging her body to respond. She didn’t usually have a quiet Flynn to just aimlessly pet at her leisure. 

Tension was trying to creep back in at the thought of how far he was from his quick and creative self, and she tried to dispel it with a deep breath. He was fine. Alive and warm and adorable. She could handle being the faster one for once.

She gripped his waist and pulled herself closer, letting her thigh ride up over his dick. He inhaled sharply but tonelessly, obviously still avoiding the use of his vocal cords, and tried to deepen their kiss. Her hips twitched forward, and when Flynn’s gave an answering roll, she levered herself up to straddle his lap, the sheet puddling behind her. She searched his face, needing to make sure everything was all right. He looked back up at her from under his lashes, his arms spread out at his sides, palms up. 

“Is this okay? Am I hurting you?” she asked.

He gave her a small smile. “Honestly, just don’t stop. Anything you do at this point makes me feel better.”

“Oh, Flynn.” She leaned down to kiss him, unable to put the renewed flare of pain in her chest into words.

Between kisses, he continued softly, “I’m glad you’re here. I’m glad you were there. I—” 

She heard the tears in his voice and tried to kiss them away, covering his eyes with her lips, his cheeks, his nose, and his eyes again, while she shifted her hips against him.

She barely heard him when he whispered, “Please, I want—” 

His hands, which had been resting on the bed the whole time, came up to her hips and indicated moving her against his own. 

“Yes. I’ve got you,” she murmured into his mouth. Leaning on her elbows, she surrounded him with her body, every point of contact warm, his dick hot and hard against her belly. She moved her hips in circles, happy to feel him responding. When she shifted forward, licking into his mouth, his head strained back and he gasped for air. Quickly catching up, she tried to keep their mouths aligned. It was messy and wet, and the need to move was getting even stronger. Reluctantly letting go of Flynn’s mouth, she lifted herself up, angling her hips to let him slide into her. 

She just saw his eyes close, the tendons on his sore throat straining, before her own eyes fell closed. She raised her hips and sank down again, wonderfully warm waves spreading from her center. 

When Flynn was panting and shivering beneath her, she increased her speed, but the image of the angry red marks all around his throat didn’t want to dissolve, no matter how much she squeezed her eyes closed. Her hands went to the sides of Flynn’s throat, and she opened her eyes again to a much better sight: all the offending marks were covered by her palms and fingers, and Flynn looked gorgeous, pleasure evident from his open mouth and fluttering eyelids. Belatedly, she realized what she was doing, and she pulled her hands away again, almost losing her balance, her rhythm faltering.

“No, don’t—” he started, but she talked over him.

“I don’t know what… I didn’t want to hurt you.”

Her attempt at picking up her rhythm again was hampered by Flynn taking her hand in his and guiding it back towards his throat. Puzzled, she almost resisted when he deliberately touched her fingertips to it.

“Can you—”, he ventured, then stopped.

Anything. “Yes, what do you want me to do?”

“It still feels like there’s something there.” He swallowed, wincing. “I know there’s nothing, but, can you—I want to feel… can you put your hands there?”

Her heart clenched painfully in her chest. She’d do anything he wanted, but she’d never be able to keep her hands on his throat without hurting him from where she was. She slid off of him and stretched out next to him instead, pulling his hips towards her. He followed willingly and the change of position didn’t seem to be causing him obvious pain. She sighed as he pushed back into her, and she slung her leg over his hip to keep him there.

Now she had time to concentrate on her hand. She let it slowly slide up Flynn’s chest until it rested across his throat. She couldn’t see any red marks anymore from her position on his shoulder, but she could still feel the gel. Cupping her palm over the marks protectively, she laid her hand across his throat, spreading her thumb and fingers wide to either side. It felt weirdly like she was trying to choke him, but at the same time gentle and protective. She kept her touch as soft as possible, trying to let him feel the touch of her fingers without putting weight into it.

She hoped this was what he wanted. “Is this okay?”

She felt him swallow and nod slightly before he turned his head towards her. She captured his open mouth, sliding her tongue inside. The feeling of his tongue against hers helped displace the pain in her chest somewhat and she had to start moving her hips again. Hooking her leg behind Flynn’s thighs, she pulled him closer, and their kisses turned sloppy as they found a rhythm. She tried to keep her hand light and steady while she felt Flynn’s heartbeat, hard and fast under her arm. 

She needed more, she needed him to know what she felt, and she started babbling between kisses, “I’m here,” things he needed to hear, “I’ll always be here. You’re with me,” and things she needed to believe, “You’re okay. You’ll be fine,” and things she knew to be true, “I love you. I love you.”

He sobbed, the end of it almost a cough, and wrapped himself around her, his arms strong but his wrists loose, his palms barely touching her skin. Every long sob sounded painful, but oh god, it was what she needed to hear, there was so much fear and pain and it was finally leaving him. She pressed herself as close to him as she could, trying to keep her touch on his throat soft, words and whines still tumbling from her mouth. His thrusts intensified, and there was nothing she could do but push back, the need to be careful only a fleeting thought. Her legs spread wider and her hips rolled with his, meeting his thrusts, the friction perfect when she angled her hips just like that, just like that. 

Her coordination left her, her legs starting to tremble, the skin of Flynn’s throat burning under her fingers, until finally all her tension came crashing down and escaped in a shout as her muscles clenched and released. Flynn’s body tensed, bucking in her arms, and he followed with a hoarse cry. 

Her limbs felt like they were floating. She didn’t want to move a finger, she wanted to stay afloat, stay tangled with Flynn, who was breathing wetly against her forehead, the air faintly whistling in his throat. But she could feel him smile against her skin, his body boneless in her arms, and it was all good.

Until she realized that her hand was tightly wrapped around Flynn’s throat, not quite choking him, but putting much more pressure on his sensitive skin than she’d intended. Apologies crowded and stuck in her throat, and she stroked her hand from his jaw downwards, lightly, softly, carefully, holding back like she should have done before, and tears welled up in her eyes.

“Shhh, Eve, it’s okay.” He stopped her hand with his own, pressing it to his heart. “Don’t worry. It’s fine. It’s better than before. You’re better. You’re the best.” He took a deep breath before he continued, “I’d rather feel you everywhere.”

She let her head sink against Flynn’s shoulder, tears spilling down her cheeks. Her throat was still so tight she was unable to speak, but she nodded in understanding. She knew what he meant, and a warm feeling bloomed in her chest, slowly beating out the pain until it was gone. Now all that was left was complete exhaustion and she longed for sleep. She groped for the sheet behind her and pulled it over them, snuggling into Flynn’s side. She felt him drowsily kiss away the last tears from her eyelids, already half-asleep, and she smiled and let sleep claim her, too.


End file.
